


12 / 4

by ClockworkDinosaur



Series: Rosemary Month 2k17 [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Birthday, F/F, Rosemary Month 2017, soft angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-09 01:16:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12265959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockworkDinosaur/pseuds/ClockworkDinosaur
Summary: December fourth is Rose's least favorite day.





	12 / 4

**Author's Note:**

> this is my second rosemary month fic! posting this earlier than the prompt calls for because i won't have time tomorrow. so i present: Angst

There's one sound Rose Lalonde hates more than silence and that is the sound of silverware clinking against china. The sound seems thunderous in the wide room, punctuation of a conversation that had never started. She sits with her back straight, purple dress tightly laced, and hands folded neatly in her lap. Dinner sits in front of her untouched. This is a test, though to what end she isn't sure, and she refuses to fail.

Mother is playing her role perfectly, if the empty bottle of wine beside her plate is ignored. Hair coiffed perfectly, black belt cinched tightly around her narrow waist, and food cut up into tiny pieces. She never brings her fork to her pink-painted lips. Often, she sets the fork down to pick up her wine glass, taking a dainty sip before returning to her charade.

Rose wonders how much longer this play will last and whether or not it would be worth it to stick her own fork through her eye.

An eternity passes before Mother sets her fork down and clasps her hands. She studies Rose across the long table, expanses of empty white tablecloth between them.

“You've always been such a good girl, Rose,” she says. The way it darts off of her tongue, too sharp to be a complement, stings. Rose barely manages to avoid flinching. She smiles sweetly at her mother, knowing that, somehow, she had lost this round.

She's already standing as she says, “Thank you, Mother. May I be excused?”

“Not yet! We haven't had any birthday cake!”

Rose sinks down into her seat as her mother hurries off into the kitchen. Again she eyes her fork. If she held it perpendicular to the table and slammed her face forward, it might be enough to kill her.

Such thoughts are halted by the appearance of her mother with an outrageously large cake in her hands. With all the carefulness a drunk woman can manage, she brings it to the table and sets it in front of Rose. Three tiered and iced in pale purple, with black roses climbing up one side. Sugar makes the whole thing glitter in the overhead light. In a drunken scrawl across the bottom layer, it says _hapPy_ ~~ _12_~~ _13thbirthday rose!_ in pink.

Rose feels sick. It had either taken her mother hours to make this or hundreds of dollars to buy it, and all to make Rose feel shitty. Shitty for being born, for taking up space, for demanding Mother's attention on such milestone days.

The urge to throw the cake off of the table and tell her mom off is nearly unbearable in its temptation. Instead she smiles that fake, sickly sweet smile.

“Thank you mother. This is lovely,” she says, each word like a rock thrown.

It's like a mirror when Mother returns the smile.

 

Dave appears behind her, in that silent way of his that is only aided by his near constant hovering. Once he obtained the ability to fly he never wanted to walk again. He crosses his arms on the back of the couch, looking between Rose and Kanaya while his feet hang in the air.

“So my birthday is comin' up, and that means Rose's is too. Considerin' this could be the last birthday we ever have I think we should actually celebrate,” he says. “I mean, the real deal. Not just letting Rose pick out the movie for the night. We make a cake, hang up streamers, blow up balloons, hire a clown- wait, no, absolutely no fucking clowns invited to this little shindig. It's a greasepaint free zone, motherfucker, stay at least five dreambubbles away or you'll be in for a world of hurt.”

“Thank you for the reminder of our possible impending doom and the crazed Juggalo on board, Dave. That's one way to get the birthday party plans moving,” Rose says. She closes the book in her lap and tries not to clench it too tightly. The way her nails dig into the soft cover is a testament to her failure.

“I think Dave is on to something,” Kanaya says slowly. “We have celebrated Dave's birthdays, and Karkat's wiggling day, and mine, and even Vriska and Terezi's despite the fact they had declared they were celebrating their wiggling days on a human calendar just to be older... but not yours. And in a few wipes we will be leaving here. Maybe we should have some sort of celebration.”

“Absolutely not,” Rose says shortly. “I do not celebrate my birthday.”

“Come _onnnn_ Rose!” Dave whines, floating upwards and letting his arms hang dejectedly. “You're only sixteen once, right? Live a little. Have a wild teens-only party.”

“I said _no,_ and that is the final word on the matter,” Rose says, tone sharp.

The room is stunned silent for a few beats too long before she takes off, an orange blur that disappears down the hallway.

“I... think I fucked up,” Dave says, lowering himself to stand on the ground.

“Perhaps,” Kanaya says, and follows after Rose.

Rose wasn't hiding, really. She just needed to get away and the empty lab was the first room that she had come across. Gargantuan mutated monsters rot in their tubes, suspended in murky green liquid. The darkness makes them even more grotesque, and Rose looks away, eyes trained on the rivets in the wall.

The room brightens considerably and Rose knows that she isn't alone. Soft footsteps become more audible as Kanaya approaches and joins Rose's silent contemplation of the metal wall.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kanaya asks eventually. Rose shakes her head, and yet words begin spilling out without her consent.

“My birthday was just another way for her, for Mother, to show her contempt for me. How dare I have the audacity to be born? Or rather, how dare I arrive on that meteor and ruin her life? How dare I not be the perfect little girl, too gloomy and opinionated? If it weren't for me she would have been great. A world-renowned scientist, a breaker of hearts, a proper party girl. My birthday is the anniversary her life ended. I knew that, she _wanted_ me to know that.”

Her words are ice and steel but the tears that stream down her cheeks are hot. Kanaya wraps her arms around Rose, her silent sobs shaking them both.

“We don't have to celebrate,” Kanaya says, “but your birthday is not the tragic event your guardian made it out to be. Your birthday was the beginning of a legacy, the start of a life full of mystery and magic and love.”

Rose stills, listening. Her face is pressed to Kanaya's chest and her words reverberate, a soothing buzz Rose can feel as well as hear.

“We don't need to have a party of course, but it is a day to be cherished, Rose. At least for me.”

 

“Are you sure about this?” Kanaya asks. The wedding band on her finger is cool against Rose's face as the two stand in the hallway. Just inside the living room, lively chatter buzzes over the quiet ambient radio music.

Rose takes a deep breath and nods. “I'm only twenty-one once, right?”

Kanaya's gold and jade eyes search her face with equal part concern and excitement. She leans down and presses a soft kiss to Rose's lips before standing to her full height with a smile.

“I know John and Jane have been baking for hours, Roxy and Calliope made all of the decorations, and everyone is here bearing gifts,” Kanaya says happily. “And,” she adds, voice quieter and tone softer, “if you need to take a moment away, everyone will understand.”

“You worry too much, my darling,” Rose says, taking her wife's hand. “I'm ready.”

The two step out into the living room, among cheers and a chorus of _happy birthday_ s. Roxy bounces forward with a party hat and snaps it on Rose's head before taking a selfie with her. They exchange happy birthday wishes before Roxy heads elsewhere.

Jade steps forward a moment later, her fluffy white ears perky and her tail wagging a mile a minute. She hugs Rose tightly, chattering about the fact that John had almost burnt the house down before Jane stepped in to help.

Throwing an arm around her shoulder and pushing a cup of apple juice into her hands, Dave swears that his birthday party will be a hundred times better than hers. When she promises to throw the most overblown Hanukah party imaginable, he snorts and walks away.

People pass, talk to Rose, wish her a happy birthday. She receives more hugs and high fives than she can count.

And the smile on her face, when the neat pink and purple cake is set on the table in front of her and Roxy and her friends and family begin singing, is completely genuine.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [blog](https://clockwork-dinosaur.tumblr.com/)


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